


I suppose

by sternflammenden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3426884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternflammenden/pseuds/sternflammenden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bethany finds pleasure in Walda's company.</p>
<p>Yes, the pairing is impossible in canon, considering the timeline.  This is just for fun and for Femmeslash February!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I suppose

She thought that Walda was delightful. Bethany had originally thought to seduce the girl merely as a clichéd revenge plot against her ex-husband, but ever since she had invited her into her bed, she had not been able to carry out her scheme to its inevitably cruel conclusion. Walda was affectionate, perhaps overly so, and had paid Bethany the complements that she had never received in her marriage. She had touched her with warm, eager hands, an equally eager and almost greedy mouth pleasuring her in ways that Roose had never bothered to attempt. 

It was agreeable, even if she was overly naive. Even if her family had done some questionable things to get where they were. Bethany thought sometimes, when Walda’s face was between her thighs, of the rumors that she’d heard, a wedding where blood flowed like wine, or so they said. But wasn't as if Rodrik Ryswell, Bethany's own father, had clean hands. And then there was Roose...

She banished the unpleasant thought from her mind as she beheld the girl in her bed. Walda lay on her side, eyes closed, although she was quite awake. She wore a short pink nightie that was so sheer that her skin showed through the silky fabric, and her ample bosom threatened to spill out of the low neckline. Bethany found herself wanting to take hold of the girl, to grasp her pleasurably yielding body and squeeze it tightly, to pull Walda against her and let the warmth and softness of her fat belly and rounded arms embrace her, to bury her face in the girl’s shoulder and let her teeth find their purchase. Then she would cry out, her high, girlish voice tightening into a shrill scream, but Bethany knew that it would be pleasure that caused her distress and not pain. She dug nails into her palms, and smiled at the sensation. 

"Well?" Walda said, opening her eyes. She rolled onto her back, baring her dimpled thighs, which were ornamented by stockings that were beginning to roll down. "Are you coming to bed or not?" She smiled at Bethany, her cheeks flushing as Bethany stood there staring, saying nothing, only watching her, watching how a plump breast finally slid above the neckline of that ridiculous negligee, imagining how it would feel to grasp it slightly too hard, to take the nipple between her shaking fingers and tweak it, watching the girl’s cheeks redden and her soft mouth draw open. Watching how her belly rose and fell, the relaxed rate of her breath, her pulse, almost hypnotic, thinking how it would quicken and pound when she took the girl in hand, when she slid an insistent hand between her legs.

She opened her hands, holding them before her face. Red moons throbbed on the tender skin, although there was no blood. She let them drop to her sides with a sigh. 

Bethany sat on the edge of the bed, her expression as dull as it had been when she'd approached her marriage bed, but the dutiful cast to her features dissolved when Walda reached out to her, brushing her hand along Bethany's spine. It was so warm.

"I suppose," Bethany whispered. She leaned into Walda's touch, shuddering at the sensation of her fingers feathering along her back, and closed her eyes.


End file.
